Page 24 of By A Thread
Heads snapped up over cubicle walls around us like prairie dogs scenting danger.
Gola turned back to me. “Malina here has career aspirations of forcing at least one Russo into a prenup. It didn’t quite work out the first time around. Did it?” she said, wrinkling her nose in fake sympathy.
Interesting.
“You’d be smart to watch your step, Gola,” Malina hissed. “And your fat ass.”
“Don’t make me twerk up on you again, Mal.” Gola’s grin was wicked.
Without another word, Malina threw her ponytail over her shoulder and stormed off.
“So, you already met the mean girl,” Gola teased.
“She seemslovely.”
“Atotalcharmer. People are always saying, ‘that Malina is thenicesthuman being in the entire department.’”
“I’mso happyI picked the desk behind hers,” I sighed.
“Lunch in thirty?” Gola moved to tap the folder she was holding on my desk and ended up dumping its contents on the floor.
“Sounds good,” I said, helping her pick up papers and fabric swatches.
* * *
It wasthe fanciest cafeteria I’d ever stepped foot in. Unlike my high school cafeteria with its vinyl stools and burnt, canned marinara smell, here the floors were some kind of white marble and huge urns filled with real greenery created a Zen, urban jungle feel.
There was definitely no canned marinara smell.
It was more of an atrium or a conservatory than a cafeteria. Even the food was fancy. I couldn’t afford it, but that didn’t stop me from glancing at the sushi chef’s display and the Keto Korner.
Gola and I grabbed an empty table between a potted palm and another table full of tall, thin women picking at lettuce and animatedly discussing a fight between a photographer and a make-up artist.
Gola placed a glass of green juice and a bowl of clear broth on the table in front of her. “I’m doing a cleanse,” she said, catching me eyeing her questionable “lunch.” “You’ve got to try it. It makes your skin radiant.”
“I’m more of an accidental fasting person,” I joked.
“Intermittent fasting is so the rage,” she nodded sagely.
“My situation is kind of ‘ran out of food’ and have to wait for my next paycheck fasting.”
“You’re broke?” Gola said with more interest than pity.
“More like newly and temporarily poor.”
Gola spotted Ruth in the crowd and waved her over. The redhead plopped her kale salad down and planted herself in the chair across from me. “Did I miss the beginning of the inquisition?” she asked breathlessly.
“Nope. Inquisition starts now,” Gola said.
“Tell us everything about you, including how you met Dalessandra, how you got this job, and if you really called Dominic Russo a megalomaniacal monster to his face,” Ruth said. She took a bite of her salad and crunched with enthusiasm.
“Uhhhh.”
“Okay. Start with meeting Dalessandra,” Gola said.
“Hey, bus stop buddy!” My orange-sweatered pal popped up next to the table, clutching his wrinkled paper bag. He beamed hopefully. “Mind if I join you?”
“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing at the open chairs. Turning back to Gola and Ruth, I explained, “We met at a bus stop when Dalessandra gave us both jobs on the spot.”
